Wang Ruonan clutched the lace trim of her bridesmaid dress, her gaze sweeping across the roomful of guests. But the moment she saw that face, she froze. Twenty years had passed, yet Lin Yijing’s features were still as clear as ever. Only his expression had grown more composed. She quickly turned away, pretending to straighten the bouquet, but as she started to leave, he seized her wrist. “Ruonan,” he said in a husky voice, as if the words had been dragged out of the past. “Do you still remember me?” Her fingertips trembled and her throat tightened, but she stubbornly refused to look back. She was afraid that if she turned around, she would reveal all the longing she had kept buried for twenty years, all the feelings she had never dared to voice.
